


This Could Be

by crossingwinter



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Angst, Character Study, F/M, Friendship, Love, Pre-Canon, Sexual Content
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-02-16
Updated: 2013-02-16
Packaged: 2017-11-29 00:08:13
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,005
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/680425
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/crossingwinter/pseuds/crossingwinter
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>She had not let herself be near Rhaegar Targaryen for nearly two weeks now. Though a small part of her wondered if it hadn’t all begun with Robert, and the rain.</p>
            </blockquote>





	This Could Be

**Author's Note:**

> This is what happens when I try a prompt that I think will turn to fluff and turns to angst. 
> 
> I apologize here for the formatting. It was the best I could do... (If you have suggestions to make it better, let me know! I'm not wholly content with this.)

“You must go to him,” Elia whispered. “Please. I cannot, and I should.” The Princess’—Queen’s—eyes were swollen and red, the skin around them shining from tears. They were the only color in her face. Elia Martell was as Dornish as it was possible to be, with skin that was incapable of paling in the winter light of what she considered to be the north. But now, her skin was ghostly. 

She pressed a palm to the Queen’s forehead and felt the fever heat scalding her palm. 

“Please, Lyanna. Go to him.” 

> “I think we will be great friends,” she said. Lyanna looked up through her lashes.  
>  She saw herself reflected in the Princess’ eyes. A scared long face, coarse black hair.
> 
> She wondered if the Princess could know. 
> 
> A twitch in her eyebrow told her she did. 
> 
> ####  She placed the wreathe of dried flowers at the Princess’ feet. 
> 
> ####  “You kept them?” Elia couldn’t keep the humor from her voice. 
> 
> ####  “I didn’t want to throw them away.” 
> 
> ####  “Had he had you even then?” 
> 
> _“You mustn’t let it upset you. If you do, they will feast upon you like wolves in winter.”_
> 
> _Lyanna shot her a look, then laughed. “I am the wolf of winter.”_
> 
> “You should not let her stay, Elia. She weakens you.” 
> 
> “She is my strength, Goodmother.” 
> 
> She heard an exhale, a hiss. “That cannot be true—not for both of you.” 
> 
> “You do not know me, Princess. And I know what I must seem to be to you. A northern wench who wants your husband’s bed, your husband’s love, and all that I can possibly get my hands on.”
> 
> “And you don’t?” 
> 
> “I want his love. I don’t want anything more.” 
> 
> Princess Elia looked out over the lilies before them in the Godswood. They were golden yellow in the sunlight. 
> 
> “And why should I believe you? How do I know you mean what you say?” The words were sharp—far sharper any she had said to her husband at dinner the night before. 
> 
> Lyanna rested her hand against an oak tree. “I swear it by my Gods. There is no heart tree here, but this place is sacred. I so swear.” 
> 
> The brown eyes softened slightly. There was even the beginnings of a smile playing at her lips. “Very well then.” 

And so Lyanna had gone, wrapping herself in a southron excuse for a bedrobe and creeping through the dark corridors of the Red Keep. 

She only went for Elia, only went because Elia had bade her go, because Elia had begged her. She had not let herself be near Rhaegar Targaryen for nearly two weeks now. Though a small part of her wondered if it hadn’t all begun with Robert, and the rain. 

> “Fuck you all!” he roared. His horse reared, rainwater dripping from its hooves, and he rode away, yellow cloak ripping through the air in his wake. 

It was not raining now. 

She wished it were. 

It had not really rained in Winterfell. There had been a lot of thunder in the distance during the summers. Once she had been scared of it, but she had learned the loud and the bright never came to Winterfell. Only snow, and ice, and cold when the winter was upon them. That Winterfell got plenty of. 

When she had been younger, she had wondered what rain was like. She had asked Ned when he was in the Eyrie, but Ned had said that the castle was above the clouds, and the sky was always bright and clear, the air always fast and cool. Brandon had not said more than that he hated the rain when he wrote from Barrowtown. 

Rain was for pain, rain was for humiliation, rain was for sadness. 

> _Lyanna fell to her knees, sobs ripping out of her body, uncontrollably painful. There was no Heart Tree in this Godswood, no stern judging face, blood red and bone. So she did not pray._
> 
> _She sat there, unable to tell where the tears ended and the rain began, and tried to clear her mind. But with every thrum of the raindrops against the leaves, she remembered seed and sex._
> 
> His mouth burned against hers, his hands—oh, his hands, pressed against her rear, clenching and massaging and holding. 
> 
> _She cried harder._
> 
> Ned’s face when she had told him. Big gloomy grey eyes in agony. 
> 
> “And Robert?” he said at last. 
> 
> She turned away from him so he couldn’t see that she was unable to make herself to care. 
> 
> Lips hot on her nipples, long fingers running along the soft flesh underneath. 

Gods, she wished it were raining. She pulled the bedrobe around her more tightly, frustrated that it did not fall to her feet at the front the way she wanted it to. Her ankles were cold, and that was enough to make chilly gooseprickles break out over her body, even if it was fairly warm for the season. 

She did not need to be told he was not in his bedchamber. Ser Arthur Dayne was not outside—nor were any of his white brothers. She leaned against the wall across from his door for a moment, then the thought struck her. She rounded the corner and stared at the compartments of the king. The thick oak paneling was studded with rosy gold, and there was no white knight outside. 

So Queen Rhaella was not there. Lyanna wondered where she was, the woman whose eyes were so like his and who only ever looked at her when she had to. 

> “I thought you were going to avoid this, Rhaegar.” 
> 
> _This._ Lyanna’s face burned. 
> 
> ####  He was getting very good at unlacing her. He knew where the knots tied in her northern dress. He could have her unclothed in seconds now. 
> 
> ####  It made her wet. 
> 
> _She was dimly aware that she was the coldest she’d been in months. Her dress was soaked through. Her maid would have trouble removing the dirt stains at her knees._
> 
> _It almost felt like home._
> 
> _Her body seemed unsure as to whether she ought to cry harder. Her lungs gulped in air, and her eyes would not dry._
> 
> “Well, apparently it was not to be avoided.” 
> 
> “She has to go away. Your father cannot know.” 
> 
> Rhaegar exhaled. “Not just yet. It’s not obvious. Not yet.” _Not obvious._
> 
> ####  He slammed the door, and pressed her against it, letting out a moan—the kind of moan that only has one cause. 
> 
> ####  “Quiet!” she hissed. Ser Jaime was not even four feet away from them. 
> 
> ####  “Let them hear,” he growled into her neck. “Let them know.” 
> 
> _She shivered and wretched again into the bedpan._
> 
> _Cool hands were holding her hair back, and she clutched the bedpost harder._
> 
> _“It will pass,” murmured Elia. “All illnesses pass. I would not live and breathe were it not so.”_
> 
> _Lyanna gulped, her throat burning. Then the hands were gone, and she felt a warm wet towel on her brow._
> 
> _“You shall not go to my husband’s bed tonight. You are too ill. Stay here with me.”_
> 
> _“But I will make you ill if I do.”_
> 
> _Elia chuckled. “And I will survive it. I always do._
> 
> “And her betrothed? What on earth are you going to tell Robert Baratheon?” 
> 
> Rhaegar hesitated. 
> 
> “That is my responsibility,” she said. 
> 
> For the first time, Queen Rhaella looked at her. 
> 
> Her eyes were cold. 

Was she asleep in her room? Did she mourn? Did she comfort Prince Viserys? Did she lie awake, empty inside, too exhausted to think anything at all?  


Lyanna was all too familiar with that. 

> _She did not know how long she had been kneeling there. At some point the tears had stopped. At some point the shivers had started._
> 
> _Maybe she would fall ill, too ill and everything would go away._
> 
> “You know, I wish I could die.” Elia’s voice was raspy, crackling and dry. 
> 
> “That’s the fever talking.” 
> 
> “No. It’s not. I’ve wished to die since I was very little. Life’s not worth living if you are barely alive.” 
> 
> “You are more than barely alive, you’re—”
> 
> “I’ve been clinging to life since I came from the womb. And the more my mind wishes to let go, the harder my body clings. I’ll outlive everyone, probably.” 
> 
> Elia laughed, but there was no humor to it. She began to cough, and Lyanna reached for a handkerchief to wipe away the mucus. 
> 
> “You must forgive him, Lyanna.” 
> 
> “I don’t have to do anything.” 
> 
> “You’ll break him. And he’s already broken.” 
> 
> “He broke me.” 
> 
> There was a glaze to Elia’s eyes. 
> 
> “Please, Lyanna. Please.” 

She ran a hand over her breastbone, kneading into the skin and avoiding the tender flesh of her breasts as best she could. They seemed to feel everything now—the light fabric of her nightdress, the weight of the bedrobe, even the winter breeze through the poorly glassed windows of the Keep. 

> _His tongue was flicking against the soft flesh, swirling around the knot he had found the day they had started._
> 
> _She cried out—she didn’t care if Ser Jaime heard her._
> 
> “You will not speak to her that way,” Rhaegar growled. 
> 
> Robert purpled. 
> 
> “I’ll speak to her however I like. She’s cuckolded me before she’s even wed me.” 
> 
> “You can’t very well wed her. Your wife lives and breathes. Still.” 
> 
> “She’ll outlive us all,” sighed Rhaegar. 
> 
> “Don’t talk about her that way,” snapped Lyanna. “She’s your wife.” 
> 
> Queen Rhaella arched an eyebrow. “This from you?” 
> 
> Lyanna took a deep breath. “I never wanted to marry him—”
> 
> “No, just take to his bed.” 
> 
> “I never sought to replace Princess Elia.” 
> 
> Rhaella sneered, “And yet you have.” 
> 
> Lyanna turned on her heel and marched away, knowing that she had to leave before the rage spilled forth before the Queen. 
> 
> ####  It had crept upon her—she wasn’t sure when. But sitting next to Princess Elia, watching her fingers pull and tug at the blanket she was embroidering for Prince Aegon, she realized that for all her determination to the contrary, for all her determination that it not be so…
> 
> ####  “Is something the matter?” Elia was looking at her, gently—the way she had imagined that her mother would look at her. 
> 
> ####  “I don’t think so,” Lyanna almost smiled. 
> 
> ####  “Are you sure?” 
> 
> ####  “No.” 
> 
> ####  Elia turned back to her work. “You will tell me if you change your mind?” 
> 
> ####  “Of course.” 

Ser Arthur stood outside the entrance to the Sept. One hand rested lazily on the hilt of the greatsword at his waist. 

“My Lady,” he nodded. 

“He is within?” 

The knight nodded. 

> Ser Arthur’s Dawn was in his hand so quickly that Robert did not have time to react. The tip of Dawn was at Robert’s throat. 
> 
> “Defending her, are you? Defending the Prince’s Whore?” 
> 
> “I defend my Prince. You will stand down, My Lord, lest I see you as a threat to his wellbeing.” There was a brief pause, and Lyanna thought that it was over. Then Ser Arthur spoke again. “What you do with her is none of my concern.” 
> 
> Rhaegar’s bark of anger was drowned by a roll of thunder. 
> 
> _Prince Lewyn found her, white cloak hanging heavy on his shoulders, water streaming in small waterfalls over his scale armor._
> 
> _“Come now, My Lady, you will make yourself sick if you stay here in the cold and in the rain.”_
> 
> _His hand was gentle under her elbow as he helped her to stand._
> 
> _Her skirts clung to her legs and she paused to shake them loose._
> 
> _“He is looking for me?” she asked at last._
> 
> _“My niece.”_
> 
> _“Please, you must understand, it was not supposed to happen. I was careful!”_
> 
> _Elia’s eyes were distant, and there were heavy dark bags underneath them again. Her Princess had not been sleeping well of late._
> 
> _“Please, Princess, I—”_
> 
> _Elia Martell raised a hand, and Lyanna froze._
> 
> _“I know.”_
> 
> “You should send her back to Winterfell at once. If you are so determined to keep her safe, send Ser Arthur with her. Or Ser Oswell. Ordinarily, I’d have you send Tywin Lannister’s brat, but I doubt your father will let him leave.” 
> 
> “You can’t go.” 
> 
> “I can’t? Am I your prisoner?” 
> 
> “You mustn’t. I don’t know what I will do without you!” 
> 
> “I imagine you’ll find some whore who will have you. That’s all I am, isn’t it? A whore?” 
> 
> “You can’t mean that. You know that isn’t what I think.” 
> 
> “It’s what Robert thinks.” 
> 
> Rhaegar let out an angry grunt. “I don’t give a damn what Robert Baratheon thinks about you. He’ll never even begin to love you the way I do.” 
> 
> She rounded on him. 
> 
> “And how would you know you don’t love me exactly the way he did?” 
> 
> _She hoped Elia never discovered that Rhaegar loved Lyanna more._
> 
> _She knew that Elia suspected, but if she ever found out, Lyanna wondered if that mightn’t just destroy her._
> 
> It was more out of habit than anything else—that every one of their interactions ended this way. The Gods could care if she wanted to scream when she looked at him. 
> 
> So when they fucked, she didn’t. 
> 
> She held onto the desk as fast she could, resting her forehead on the cool wood. When she opened her eyes, she could see the shadow of him, thrusting away behind her. 
> 
> She tried to find whatever love she had once borne him, that feeling that made her heart beat faster and excitement gnaw at her skin until she collapsed beneath him, that which had made her give up everything—her family, her dreams, her determination—to be near him. 
> 
> When lightning crackled through the window and illuminated where they were connected, she supposed that the sight of their coupling would have to do for now. 

She pushed open the door. 

She always felt like an intruder in Sept, walking straight passed the altars to Gods she did not understand or believe in. 

> _The rain hitting the leaves of the trees in the Godswood was like a soft drum beat, a quiet war in the peaceful green. Why is this happening? she thought. How has this happened?_
> 
> _A droplet of rain dripped off the tip of her nose._

The two kings were beneath the Father’s altar. One was lying on a bier, hair and fingernails cut shorter than he had ever allowed in life; the other sat on the ground staring at her as she approached. 

She stopped ten feet from him, and waited. 

“Are you here to tell me you are leaving?” he asked at last. 

“No.” 

“You want to leave, though.” 

> _It was the first time he had lost his temper with her._
> 
> _“Will you listen to me Lyanna?” he roared._
> 
> _“You sound like Robert, she sneered._
> 
> _He looked like he was going to hit her. He didn’t._
> 
> _She wished he had._
> 
> “My brother writes that I should destroy you, and that he’ll send along poison I can use,” Elia said cheerily. 
> 
> “As if you’d need poison to destroy me,” sighed Lyanna. 
> 
> “You know I wouldn’t.” 
> 
> She locked eyes with the Princess and murmured, “Maybe you should.” 
> 
> “Do what you will with her, but your father must never know. Even if the whole court finds out, your father won’t know unless he sees it. So don’t you dare let him find out.” 
> 
> Please don’t reply, she begged to herself. Just don’t say anything. Please. 
> 
> Had she been in the room, she knew that he wouldn’t. But sitting on his bed, naked, listening through the cracked door, she could only hear, she could not be seen. 
> 
> “Yes mother.” 
> 
> Lyanna closed her eyes, and felt as if the world were falling away. 
> 
> “He infuriates you, doesn’t he?” 
> 
> Lyanna looked at her, and almost gasped. 
> 
> The Princess was radiant, gold weaving through her gown and hair, lidding her eyes. She looked every inch her station, every inch the Sun’s pride. 
> 
> “Yes.” 
> 
> “He infuriates me too. But that’s love, I suppose.” 
> 
> Lyanna nodded, and looked around the room. The little Prince was crawling on the bed, fussing with some loose brocade of the blanket. 
> 
> Lyanna wanted to cry. 
> 
> “You’ll forgive him, whatever he has done.” 
> 
> “Not this time,” she whispered. 
> 
> Elia raised an eyebrow. “If I can forgive him you, you can forgive him this.” 
> 
> Lyanna looked away. 

“Yes. But I won’t.” 

He looked so like his mother when he raised his eyebrows. 

“Oh?” 

“No.” 

He exhaled. “Good.” 

> _“I will leave,” she cried, livid—more livid than she had ever been. More livid than Robert, more livid than Ned, more livid than any rage she had ever borne herself in her pain and in her shame._
> 
> _“And do you think I would let you?” His voice was so quiet, and she knew he meant it._
> 
> _Her heart stopped._
> 
> Her heart was beating faster than it ever had before. 
> 
> Nothing, not racing Brandon, dueling Benjen, arguing with Ned—nothing was like this. 
> 
> His eyes were closed, and he was breathing evenly—asleep, she thought. 
> 
> She reached a hand down, skimming his abdomen until she reached the coarse silver-gold hair. She ran her fingers gently through it, then further down, to the softest skin she had ever touched. 
> 
> “I am not an animal!” she screamed, not caring who heard, not caring about anything except the slight rawness in her throat, “To be fucked when you want, but caged and locked away!” 
> 
> “You can have whatever freedom you want, but you will not leave,” his voice was even quieter. 
> 
> “It is not freedom if you bestow it unto me, like the fucking Seven did to Hugor of the Hill.” 
> 
> “Do not speak of the Gods that way.” 
> 
> “They are not my Gods,” she spat. 
> 
> _Have you forsaken me? she begged of the trees. Have I done so much wrong that I am lost?_
> 
> #### “What are you thinking?” he asked, tracing a pattern across her spine. 
> 
> #### “Nothing.” 
> 
> #### “You have been distant of late.” 
> 
> #### “I have not been,” she lied. 
> 
> ####  He raised an eyebrow. 
> 
> ####  “You’re conspiring with my wife, aren’t you?” he teased. 
> 
> #### She smiled, more to herself than at him. 

“Elia wished to make sure that you weren’t alone.” 

His shoulders sagged. 

“Elia,” he breathed. 

“Elia.” 

“I marvel at her longevity.” He looked at his father. “It’s almost funny—the illness that slew my father in a day, my sickly wife staves off with every ounce she has.” 

“She has had more practice.” 

“I suppose.” 

> “I’ll be fine,” Elia sighed. “You needn’t worry about me, my love.” 
> 
> “I always worry about you,” he professed, but his eyes were on Lyanna. 
> 
> _“I always worry about you,” he whispered._
> 
> _“I’ll be fine,” Lyanna replied coolly. “It’s only Robert. I can handle Robert.”_
> 
> _“Can you?”_
> 
> _She kissed his forehead. “Yes.”_
> 
> How different he was with Elia! Dutiful, and respectful, and distant! Even when she could be dying, there was no passion for her, and very little appreciation. Lyanna almost never saw it, but she was there now, and it almost made her sick. 
> 
> Elia reached unsteadily for his hand. 
> 
> “I know. And I always tell you you mustn’t. Go to your father. You will be a great comfort to him.” 
> 
> “Are you sure?” 
> 
> “Of course. Lyanna will stay and read to me, and I shall be quite content.” 
> 
> He nodded as he backed away. Then he was gone. 
> 
> Elia rolled her eyes and laughed. 
> 
> “What must you think?” she sighed, looking at Lyanna. 
> 
> “I think he does not know what he has.” 
> 
> “Oh, he never has. That much has always been clear to me.” 
> 
> “Any Prince would be lucky to have you as a wife, as a mother to his children.” 
> 
> “He does, at the very least, love his children,” agreed Elia. 
> 
> ####  “Papa! Papa!” Rhaenys sprinted through the Godwood and threw her arms around Rhaegar’s legs. 
> 
> ####  “What are you doing here, my little Princess?” 
> 
> ####  “I was learning about the Children of the Forest!” beamed the child. 
> 
> ####  “And what have you learned?” he crouched down so he could look into her eyes. 
> 
> ####  Lyanna wondered if he saw Elia there the way she did. 
> 
> _“And one day, when you are taller than I am, you shall be king,” she heard him murmur. He was holding the babe in his arms. The little Prince burbled and grabbed at his father’s nose. “That, my son, is mine. I’m afraid you can never have it.” He removed his son’s hand, but let the babe hold onto his fingers._

He rubbed his eyes. 

“How long have you been here?” she asked. 

“Since sunset. Maybe longer?” He yawned. He arched his back, stretching it. She heard three vertebrae crack. She knew which ones they were—one between his shoulder blades, one at the base of his ribcage, and the one directly below that one. 

> It was after a particularly large thrust that his back cracked. He cursed, but she laughed, and reached up to cup his cheek. 
> 
> “Blasted Selmy! It was fine before Harrenhal. It’ll probably do this forever, if it hasn’t stopped.” 
> 
> “Well, you won, didn’t you?” 
> 
> His expression softened and he brushed his lips to hers. “That I did.” She shivered and pulled him closer. 
> 
> “I’ve always wanted a flower crown,” sighed Elia when she looked up, the dried roses still in her hand. “I’ve never once in my life been named the Queen of Love and Beauty. Oberyn swore that he’d crown me at one point—but he’s never won at tilting. Only ever in melées.” 
> 
> “It’s not particularly exciting. He gives you a crown, you pretend to be excited when really you are mortified, and then everyone forgets about it and you don’t have anything except a memory.” 
> 
> “You have the memory though.” 
> 
> “I wish I didn’t.” 
> 
> Elia was still for a moment. 
> 
> “You are so unhappy?” 
> 
> Lyanna didn’t know. 
> 
> ####  “Mama says that when I am grown, I should look to you to know how a lady ought to behave.” 
> 
> ####  “Oh? And why is that?” 
> 
> ####  “She says that I will not be a Princess all my life, and that one day I will be wed to a lord and thus must know how a lady should act. And you know that better than she does.” 
> 
> ####  “I have heard that Targaryens wed brother to sister, little Princess.” 
> 
> ####  Princess Rhaenys shrugged. “I don’t want to marry Aegon. He’s smelly.” 
> 
> ####  Lyanna laughed. 
> 
> ####  “And besides,” added the girl, “Mama says that no children of hers will be wed to each other, even if she has to fight Papa about it.” 
> 
> ####  “I do not envy your father the fight.” 
> 
> _“I would make you a queen, Lyanna.”_
> 
> _“You’ve made me Queen of Love and Beauty, is that not enough?”_

“You should sleep.” 

“I should sit vigil,” he shot back. “I will sit vigil. He was my father, if nothing else.” He sighed. “He was the king.” 

“And now you are. You can send someone else to sit vigil in your stead.” 

“I could. But I shan’t. I must do it. It must be me.” He looked like Viserys when he looked at her then—lost and confused and childlike. “Will I make a good king, Lyanna? Will I?” 

“Better than he was.” 

“That does not take much. Will I be great? Like Aegon I, or Aegon V, or Baelor the Blessed, or—”

“You make yourself crazy with all this.” 

“Will I be mad like my father?” _Fear_ , she heard. _He is afraid._

“Yes,” she said softly. 

“Yes?” _Confusion, now._

> “She should not be at table with us,” whined the King. 
> 
> “I know my love. But Rhaegar invited her,” sighed Queen Rhaella. She was looking out the window, at the candlesticks, into her wine glass—anywhere but at her husband. 
> 
> “Of all the houses in Westeros, house Stark has the least Blood of the Dragon. She should not be here. He should have found a Valeryon. He should be true to his wife.” 
> 
> Rhaegar glanced at her across the table, and rolled his eyes slightly. 
> 
> A smile began to play at her mouth. 
> 
> Robert stood in the Throne Room, a vein throbbing in his neck, his teeth gritted, but he said not a word. 
> 
> “Is that all, Lord Baratheon?” Rhaegar’s voice rang kingly through the hall. He stood before his father’s throne. 
> 
> “Go fuck yourself, Targaryen,” Robert snapped. 
> 
> Aerys began to laugh. “If he could that would have solved your problem, wouldn’t it, Lord Baratheon?” The court was laughing too, hundreds of people, not sure whether to laugh at Robert, at Lyanna, at the Prince of Dragonstone, but knowing that they needed to laugh. King Aerys did not like laughing alone. 
> 
> But long after the court had stopped, long after Robert had turned on his heel, whipping his cloak behind him, Aerys Targaryen's laughter rang through the Throne Room. 
> 
> ####  “My love, you must go and wish your Grandpapa a joyful nameday,” murmured Princess Elia. 
> 
> ####  Princess Rhaenys shuffled her feet. “I don’t want to.” 
> 
> ####  “You must.” 
> 
> ####  “But I’m scared of him, Mama!” 
> 
> ####  Elia looked significantly at Lyanna and she knelt beside her daughter, “I am too,” she whispered. “I am only the daughter of the Sun. But you are a Dragon. And Dragons do not fear Dragons. You must be brave for me. Can you do that?” 
> 
> ####  Rhaenys pouted. 
> 
> _If I stay here much longer, they will think I am mad, she thought. It would be fitting. Mad King, and Mad Lyanna Stark. He will probably be Mad too._
> 
> “I watch him so closely, in case he is like my father,” sighed Rhaegar. 
> 
> “Aegon?” 
> 
> “Viserys.” 
> 
> “Do you think he is?” 
> 
> Rhaegar ran his fingers through his hair. “I think he is like my father the way I remember him as a child. A happy soul, a gentle one, a charming one. But sometimes he gets angry…And I get nervous.” 
> 
> “Your mother gets angry.” 
> 
> “It is not my mother’s anger I see in him. I fear it is my father’s.” 

“Yes. If—” she paused. She shouldn’t say it. She should calm him. But she was Lyanna Stark. She never did what she should. “if you put yourself aside and become the king.” 

He leaned his head back against the altar of the Smith. “So I will not be a good king. I, Rhaegar Targaryen, am not the stuff of kings.” 

She shook her head. 

> _“Provided of course that Elia can give me another son.” They heard his voice drift in from the Solar. Elia sat perfectly still._
> 
> _“My Prince, I have said it before, and I shall say it again. Her last babe nearly killed her. I fear that if she should conceive again, she will die.”_
> 
> _“The Dragon must have three heads, Grand Maester. Some things must be sacrificed.”_
> 
> _“But surely—”_
> 
> _“Some things must be sacrificed.”_
> 
> “He hurts me,” she whispered into the pillows. 
> 
> Lyanna did not know what to say, so she waited. 
> 
> “He does not mean to. I know he does not. He is gentle with me. Careful. As though I might break. But…” and there were tears on Elia’s face, “Whenever he enters me it hurts and I try so hard not to let him know, but I think he must. How can he not?” 
> 
> ####  She stretched around him, and he groaned when he was fully sheathed inside her. He froze, holding himself as still as possible. 
> 
> ####  Then he spurted. 
> 
> “Is there something wrong with me?” She was weeping now, blubbering, and Lyanna wished she knew how to comfort her. “I love my husband. I do!” 

He began to laugh. “You know?” he practically hooted. But it was not a hoot. There was no humor behind his laugh. “It’s such a relief to hear you say that! And here I was thinking that you would be supportive and sweet. Never you. Never you.” 

> #### “I love him, Ned. I do.” 
> 
> ####  “Lyanna—”
> 
> #### “Brandon says I don’t know what love is—that I’m too young, but I do know what love is.” 
> 
> ####  Ned’s eyes were sharp. “Lyanna!” 
> 
> ####  Lyanna rolled her eyes. 
> 
> #### “Oh Ned, don’t look at me that way. You can’t tell me you’ve never bedded a woman.” 
> 
> ####  Ned’s expression did not change. 
> 
> ####  “Lyanna, this isn’t dueling Benjen in the Godswood, or dressing up like some Mystery Knight to prove a point—this is serious.” 
> 
> ####  “My maidenhead is serious? I did not know that. I wouldn’t have lost it to the saddle years ago if I had.” 
> 
> ####  “Lyanna—”
> 
> ####  Lyanna stood up. “I love him. I have loved him, I will continue to love him, and if you persist in trying to foist Robert on me, I will never see you again.” 
> 
> _“I’ve made my bed, now I have to lie in it, I suppose.”_

“You are too indecisive to be a king. You, like Aegon IV, think with your manhood too often. And you have never known a good king.” 

“Tell me more, Lyanna. Tell me more.” He sounded angry, now. 

Good. 

She was angry. Why should he not be? 

> _She felt her hair curling in the wet as she ran through the trees. Felt as it sank, as it lost its volume to the persistent moisture that was descending from the heavens. She was crying, the Gods were crying, the world was ending, and nothing would ever be right again._
> 
> _And she hated him for it._
> 
> “Will you do as you’re told for once in your life?” 
> 
> “No.” 
> 
> “Gods you infuriate me.” 
> 
> “No more than you infuriate me. You would have nothing of me but my cunt, would you.” 
> 
> “Lyanna—”
> 
> “Would you? Because right now, all I can see is—”
> 
> “You have no idea what you are talking about. I would have you as my wife.” 
> 
> Lyanna gasped. 
> 
> “Rhaegar.” He said nothing. “Rhaegar, did you do this on purpose?” He remained silent. 
> 
> And she slapped him. 
> 
> “I know he takes you into his bed. You don’t have to hide it from me.” 
> 
> Lyanna couldn’t even hear her own breath. She could only hear the raindrops that landed on the balcony. 
> 
> “I do not mind. A Prince must have his pleasure, I suppose.” 
> 
> ####  “Your wife knows.” 
> 
> ####  He did not move, though his breath hitched slightly. 
> 
> ####  “I suppose I’m not surprised.” 
> 
> ####  “Doesn’t it bother you?” 
> 
> ####  “I don’t really give a damn.” 
> 
> _“He didn’t force me, Robert!” she practically had to shout it. It seemed that Robert wouldn’t hear it otherwise._
> 
> _Her mother had once told her—had it been her mother? Maybe it hadn’t been. Maybe it had been Old Nan after her mother died, or her Aunt Flint come to visit—that moon blood makes the world._
> 
> _She tried to conjure up the face of the Gods of Winterfell, but they were lost to her memory._
> 
> _If only she could pray._
> 
> “Come to me again tomorrow?” 
> 
> She could never say no. 
> 
> _“No, Rhaegar. No.”_
> 
> _He glared at her._
> 
> _“No?” he positively sneered._
> 
> _“No.”_

“You hold yourself too highly, and ignore the wills and wants of others. A good leader must put himself last.” 

“Says who? Rickard Stark of Winterfell? The First of Men? A good king must lead, not follow, Lyanna.” 

“You listen but do not hear. You look but do not see.” 

He was on his feet, moving towards her. She knew he wanted her to back away, to cower, or maybe, to flirt. But she stood her ground, her jaw jutted forward, and when he was an inch away from her, she said, “And I have the measure of you, more than you will ever have of me. A king must not be measured.” 

“Except by his queen.” 

“I am not your queen.” 

> “He would wed me, Elia. For the babe in my belly, he would wed me.” 
> 
> “That doesn’t surprise me. He does imagine himself to be incredibly noble, and what does one do if one’s noble—one marries the mother of one’s child.” Elia wasn’t looking at her. She was looking out at the rain over the Blackwater. 
> 
> “I suppose he will put me aside then. He does love you more than he has ever loved me.” 
> 
> “No, I would never let him.” 
> 
> Elia smiled slightly. 
> 
> “I suppose he intends us to be sister-wives then, like Rhaenys and Visenya. Shall I be Rhaenys? I am more like her in character than you are. You’re forceful enough to be twelve Visenyas.” 
> 
> “I won’t marry him, Elia.” 
> 
> Elia laughed. “You think you can deny him? No one denies the Dragon anything.” 
> 
> “I will.” 
> 
> _She ran her fingers through the wet leaves, through the mud, through the grass. My son will keep the Old Gods, even if he never sees a Heart Tree in his life. The Seven put strange notions in a man’s head. Notions of rights, and what is owed._
> 
> _Her son would have none of that._
> 
> _She took a deep breath, and almost stood. But didn’t._
> 
> _But she was soothed, at least, until the lightning crackled and she remembered Rhaegar again._
> 
> _Then the tears flowed again._
> 
> “Why are you doing this Lyanna? Do you not love me?” 
> 
> “It has nothing to do with love, Rhaegar, and neither does your proposal—don’t even pretend.” 
> 
> “I want my daughter to be legitimate.” 
> 
> “I have a son inside me. To legitimize him would be to enrage the world.” 
> 
> “I gave you a daughter. I am sure of it.” 
> 
> She laughed, and placed her hand on her stomach. “This is no Visenya, Rhaegar.” 
> 
> “She is,” he growled. 

He seemed to wilt. 

“No,” he said quietly. “No, you are not.” He turned away and moved towards his father. He hunched over and rested his forehead on that of Aerys II. 

They stood silently. 

Then, Rhaegar said, “I would be a great king if you were my queen.” 

“We’ve been through this—”

He turned to her swiftly. “And it is still true. Aegon I had two queens. Why can’t I?” 

“Could you do that to Elia?” 

“Elia will mind no more than when I took you to my bed. You are great friends already. Why should that change when I wed you?” 

“I won’t wed you.” 

“You will.” 

“I will not. I will not marry a man who has another wife. You may be able to convince the world that that is all right, as Valyrian as marrying a sister, but I will not have you.” 

“And yet you will stay here?” 

“Yes.” 

“And when my daughter is born.” 

“Your son will be a bastard.” 

> _“I will legitimize her.”_
> 
> _“No, you won’t.”_
> 
> “Princess, I am with child.” She knelt before Elia, her head resting in the Princess’ lap. 
> 
> She heard Elia’s breath leave her in a hiss. 

“Elia’s son may be sickly.” 

“Or he may have your strength. My son will be a bastard.” 

“You’re proud of that, aren’t you?” 

“I am not ashamed of it.” 

> _I will take him to Winterfell. He will play with Ned’s children, and pray before my Gods._

His face changed. 

“Please, Lyanna. Please. You are my strength.” 

“And I shall be. But not your wife. Come to bed.” 

He took a deep breath. 

“No. I am king now. I must put myself aside. Or try to.” 

She knew he was trying to punish her. She knew he wanted her to beg, to apologize. 

“Very well. I am going to bed. I encourage you to sleep as well. A king must sleep.” 

> _She was trembling, shuddering, uncontrollable, wanton. She drove herself onto him, pulling him into her, as deep as he would go._
> 
> _When she was spent, he murmured, “Gods, I love you. You give me the greatest rest I have ever known.”_
> 
> _“Then I am not using you properly,” she teased, and kissed him lightly on the shoulder. He caught her lips with his own, and she felt him harden within her once again._

She had passed the altar of the Maid when she heard him, 

“Lyanna.” She did not turn to face him. “Lyanna, tell Elia I will see her in the morning.” 

She nodded once. 

The door of the Sept swung closed behind her. She nodded to Ser Arthur then made her way back to her bed. 

Her footsteps echoed. 

And faintly, in the distance, she could hear the beginning of rainfall. 


End file.
